


He Had it Comin'

by CoffeeDrip



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, pre-destiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 10:10:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1506665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeDrip/pseuds/CoffeeDrip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel becomes obsessed with the soundtrack of Chicago. </p>
<p>Not a song fic, although the songs do factor in on occasion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Had it Comin'

**Author's Note:**

> This is just crack and fluff. Inspired by my running playlist, which has many Chicago songs on it. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Not fully beta'd, I got impatient, so mistakes are probably mine. Sorry ellenwin!

**“Give 'em an act with lots of flash in it, and the reaction will be passionate; Give 'em the old hocus pocus; Bead and feather 'em - How can they see with sequins in their eyes?”**

Sam and Dean heard the music as soon as they walked into the bunker. They really couldn’t avoid hearing it, considering the volume on whatever stereo was blasting it was cranked to the max and it was echoing throughout the facility.

“The fuck is that?” Dean asked, throwing his bag on the table as he came down the stairs.

“That,” Sam said, pointing his finger toward the source of the sound, “is Razzle Dazzle from _Chicago_.”

“ _Chicago_? Like, the musical?” Dean raised his eyebrow, and turned to his brother. “Please tell me that I do not hear Cas singing.”

Sam shrugged. Cas was definitely singing.

**“Give 'em the old double whammy - Daze and dizzy 'em; back since the days of old Methuselah, everyone loves the big bambooz-a-ler…”**

“Show tunes? Really?”

Sam watched as his brother stomped down the hall toward the bedroom of one Castiel, former angel of the lord, and apparent aficionado of broadway musicals.

The music abruptly shut off, and the sounds of a scuffle echoed down the hall. Sam perched himself on the table and listened, a smirk on his face.

“Dean! Give that back to me!”

“Not gonna happen Cas!”

Dean came stomping back out of the room, an iPod in his hand, and an angry, red-faced Castiel hot on his heels.

“That is mine, Dean. You cannot just come into my room and take my things,” Cas shouted. Dean stepped forward and grabbed the hem of the t-shirt Cas was wearing, tugging it up so the other man could see.

“And this is mine. Who has been taking things that aren’t theirs now?” He challenged. Castiel slapped his hand away, and glared at him, before pulling the t-shirt off. He bunched it into a ball, and handed it very angrily to Dean.

“I’ve returned your item. Please return mine,” Castiel said simply. And Sam had to be impressed at how calm and collected he looked, standing half-naked in front of Dean, who was very obviously checking him out. Dean swallowed hard, his eyes flicking from Cas’ lips to his eyes and back, and Sam rolled his eyes.

“Here,” he said, pulling the iPod from Dean’s hand and giving it to Cas.

“Thank you, Sam.” Castiel said, before retreating to his bedroom once again.

Sam pretended that he didn’t see Dean check out the other man’s ass as he left the room.

 

****  


It was the better part of a week before Sam and Dean realized that Castiel listened to some of the songs from Chicago when he was in very specific moods. On that particular day, Dean and Castiel had had another of their disagreements, a phenomenon not uncommon for the two of them, and the pattern clicked for Sam.

“Dude, he’s listening to that song again,” Sam told his brother as he strolled into the kitchen, where Dean was drinking a cup of coffee and scoping out potential hunts.

“What song?” Dean scoffed.

“He had it Coming.” Sam said. “It’s a song about women murdering men, and their justifications for the murders. Cas listens to it after every fight the two of you have.”

“So, what, is he planning to murder me?” Dean looked at his brother and grinned.

“Maybe. The song is about killing the worthless men in their lives.” Sam waggled his eyebrows at Dean, who rolled his eyes.

“Shut up, Sammy.” Dean returned his attention to his coffee and the newspaper he was reading.

“ _He took a flower in its prime, and then he used it, and he abused it, it was a murder but not a crime_ ,” Sam sang, until Dean whacked him in the head with the newspaper.

“So what, he listens to this song when he’s angry?” Dean asked.

“Seems like it,” Sam responded, pushing his ruffled hair back into place behind his ear.

"Well as long as he doesn’t get any ideas, it seems like a good coping mechanism to me,” Dean said.

“Or you could just stop being an asshole,” Sam suggested, earning him another smack with the newspaper.

****  


 

 

“C’mon guys, let’s hit a bar tonight,” Dean suggested to Sam and Castiel, who were poring over an ancient book in the library. “We never leave this place anymore.”

The other two men turned and faced him, and after a moment of silence, Sam nodded.

“Ok, I’m game. On one condition,” Sam said, gesturing to himself and Cas. “We get to pick the bar this time.”

“Whatever, as long as there’s booze and pretty women, I’m happy,” Dean replied.

The three men donned jackets and piled into the Impala, headed to a bar in Hastings - an hour away - because Sam had read about it on the internet and wanted to check it out. But, it was a nice evening for a drive, and Dean rolled down his window and enjoyed it.

“It says here that this bar has… karaoke… every Wednesday night.” Castiel noted, looking up from his smartphone in the back of the car. “What is that?”

“Something we won’t be doing,” Dean answered quickly. Sam laughed, and turned in his seat so he could see Cas.

“Karaoke is when drunk people get up in front of the bar and sing along with songs for everyone. Typically badly.” He explained.

“Do people sing any song they want?” Cas asked.

“Generally, yeah. As long as the song is available at that particular establishment,” Sam responded. Castiel’s sudden interest in karaoke was amusing him. “I won a karaoke contest when I was at Stanford, with Jessica.”

“Dude, no you didn’t,” Dean laughed.

“We did!” Sam defended. “Won a semester of free drinks.”

“What did you sing?” Castiel piped in from the back seat.

“Please tell me it was I Got You Babe,” Dean teased, and Sam punched him in the shoulder.

“It was Time of my Life from _Dirty Dancing_. Jess’ favorite movie,” Sam replied. Cas hummed from the backseat, muttering something about not having heard that song, and then began clicking away on the screen of his phone, presumably looking up the movie or the iconic melody. Ever since Sam had taught him how to Google on his phone, he was never far from it.

“You couldn’t get me drunk enough to do karaoke,” Dean said.

“That’s good, because you’re a bad enough singer when you’re sober,” Sam retorted.

“Shut up, bitch,” Dean pulled the Impala into the parking lot of the bar Sam had chosen and swung the car into a parking spot near the back of the lot.

“Jerk,” Sam said as he extracted his massive frame from the passenger seat.

****  


 

 

Two beers in and Castiel was tipsy. Sam was worried when the former angel stumbled away from the table without a word, leaving Sam alone while Dean played a round of pool. He figured that Castiel was headed to the restroom. He was not at all prepared for hearing the now-familiar singing voice of the man began crooning from the karaoke mic.

**“Ask any of the chickies in my pen, they’ll tell you I’m the biggest mother hen…”**

“Oh shit,” Sam muttered. “Dean is going to be pissed.”

**“I love them all and all of them love me, because the system works, the system called, reciprocity…”**

Sam pulled out his cell phone and dialed Dean’s number. When his brother answered, he simply said “It’s Cas” and hung up, before turning his attention to the man on the karaoke stage, practically making love to the microphone with his mouth as he sang.

“What the hell, Sammy - what is he doing up there?” Dean groaned as he came up behind him.

“He just… got up, and walked away. Didn’t say where he was going,” Sam replied, turning his attention to his brother, who was beginning to get a little flushed on the neck.

**“If you want my gravy, pepper my ragu… spice it up for mama, she’ll get hot for you…”**

“Shit,” Dean breathed, plunking himself into his chair and shifting uncomfortably.

**“When they pass that basket, folks contribute too - you put in for mama, she’ll put out for you…”**

“What the fuck is he singing?” Dean asked, his voice hoarse. He turned his head so he was looking at Sam, anywhere but at Castiel, who was now moving along with the lyrics of the song.

“It’s another song from _Chicago_ ,” Sam explained. “But he’s never listened to this particular one at the bunker that I recall." 

“Yeah.. think I’d remember that,” Dean replied. He pointedly refused to look back toward the stage, and Sam grinned, noticing his brother’s flinch when the “when you’re stroking mama, mama’s stroking you” line came and went.

Finally, the music stopped, and the bar went silent for a moment before an uproarious cheer filled it. Either Castiel was damn good at karaoke, or the entirety of the establishment was thoroughly drunk.

Dean jumped up as soon as the song finished, murmuring something about the restroom and disappearing into the crowd. When Castiel managed to make it back to the table, with a couple of slips of paper in his hand bearing the phone numbers of some bar patrons, Dean had not yet returned.

“Want me to find him?” Sam offered, when Cas inquired about his whereabouts. The dark-haired man declined, saying he wasn’t ready to sit down again just yet, and wandering in the direction of the restrooms.

Castiel found Dean leaning over a sink, staring into the mirror, obviously having splashed some cold water on his face.

“Dean?” Castiel asked. When the other man failed to respond, he stepped up beside him. “Dean?” He said again, tentatively. Castiel wasn’t sure why Dean would be mad at him, but seeing him absent from the table when he returned from his song had made his heart ache.

“Whaddya want, Cas?” Dean responded after a moment.

“I just wanted to ensure you were okay,” Castiel said quietly. He couldn’t get a good read on Dean’s mood, which was unusual. The man seemed to be a whirl of emotions.

“M’fine,” Dean muttered. When he failed to stop looking in the mirror, Cas reached a hand out to touch his shoulder, and Dean jerked back from his touch. “Dammit Cas,” he growled, spinning around to grab the other man’s arm and shove him back into the wall of the bathroom.

“Dean?” Castiel was confused, staring at Dean’s eyes as the other man glared at him from mere inches away.

“You just don’t get it, do you Cas?” Dean hissed. “You don’t understand what all this stupid, awkward crap you pull does to me, do you?”

Cas watched as Dean’s gaze flickered from his eyes to his lips and back again, and his breath caught. “I… am sorry, Dean… for whatever it is that I’ve done to anger you,” he apologized, voice wavering with uncertainty as he searched Dean’s face for a sign of what was going on.

After a moment of thought, Dean surged forward, catching Castiel’s lips with his own. Cas squeaked in surprise, but before he could respond in kind, Dean pulled away.

“This is stupid,” the other man snapped. Castiel watched as he stormed out of the restroom, leaving him standing alone, short of breath, and utterly confused.

****  


 

 

The drive back to the bunker was uncomfortable, and Sam was at a loss. He had no idea what had happened in that bathroom at the bar, but he did know that his brother had come rolling through like a thundercloud, stated “we’re leaving”, and left the building. Sam had had to go find Castiel, and pay their tab, before following Dean to the Impala.

Once inside the bunker, Dean had stomped off to his room, and Castiel had stood in a daze in the hallway for several minutes before proceeding to his room, leaving Sam even more confused.

Finally, he decided to confront his brother. Sure, the former angel was more likely to spill the details to Sam than Dean, but Sam was fairly certain that whatever had happened, had happened because of Dean.

“I’m coming in,” Sam warned, knocking on Dean’s door.

“Go away Sammy,” was the response he got. But instead, he pushed the door open and found his brother lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Dude, what is going on?” Sam asked, flopping down on the bed beside his brother, which made the smaller man glare at him, although the memory foam mattress prevented him from being bounced off the bed like Sam was hoping.

“What are you talking about?” Dean huffed in response.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Dean,” Sam glared at his brother, who sighed.

“Looks like we’re doing this feelings shit whether I like it or not, huh, Dear Abby?”

“Yes, Dean, we are. What the hell happened back there at the bar? You come out of the bathroom in a raging mood, practically leave without me and Cas, you are completely silent the whole ride home, now you’re hiding in here like some teenage girl,” Sam said. “What the hell is going on?”

“I kissed Cas, okay?” Dean responded, voice quiet. Sam was shocked at how quickly his brother had answered.

“And? What’s the problem? Didn’t he kiss you back?” He knew he was pushing his luck, trying to get Dean to open up to him more, but surprisingly he did.

“No, I didn’t give him a chance to. I realized it was a stupid move and I left,” Dean told him. Sam sighed.

“Why do you think it was a stupid move?”

“Because, man, guys just don’t kiss their best friends like that.” Dean scoffed.

“If you had taken a few moments to let him react, instead of sucking your balls up into your stomach and running away, you probably would’ve realized that Cas is as much in love with you as you are with him.” Sam’s tone was scolding, as if he couldn’t believe that his brother would be such an idiot. Because he really couldn’t.

“Dude, I’m not in love with him,” Dean tried to correct, but Sam shook his head.

“The only two people in the world who believe that, Dean, are you and Cas. Everyone can see it, but the two of you keep dancing around it. And I’m just suggesting that if you don’t want to lose him, that you do more than kiss him and run away about it soon. He is human now, and you should’ve seen the stack of phone numbers he got at the bar from both men and women after his song. The ball is in your court, Dean,” Sam said simply. And with that he, he left his brother to think.

****  


 

 

Five months later, and the bunker was decorated in festive fashion for the celebration of Castiel’s “birthday” - the anniversary of the date he chose to give up heaven fully for a human existence. Before the guests - sparse as they were - arrived, Dean pulled Castiel into their shared bedroom to give him his gift.

“I wanted you to have this before the party,” Dean told him, flushing a bit as he handed his boyfriend a slim envelope. “Happy birthday, babe.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow before opening the envelope to reveal two premium tickets to an upcoming performance of Chicago on Broadway.

“Thought we could make a little vacation of it,” Dean suggested with a smile.

Castiel answered him with a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> I obviously don't own any of Chicago or Supernatural.


End file.
